SG1 Wolf Part 5: Apposite
by spookysister7
Summary: Her children are alive, and May owes Jack an apology. Will it bring them together, or drive them further apart? May's POV


SG1 Wolf Part 5: Apposite

I looked back at my children as Wolf left. I had forgiven him. There was nothing to forgive. I had merely misunderstood, as it was wont of women to do. I needed to apologize to him; that was probably what had caused him to turn away like that. He was my protector, and I had not appreciated him. If I had acted like that with Halcon…

I resolved to apologize to him as soon as possible, to make it up to him… If he would still accept me!

My eyes widened in horror at the thought. I now knew that my children were protected, but what of myself? I had distrusted him, run from him, hit him! Why would he want me back? Would I be nothing more to him now than a nurse-maid to the children?

A sudden terror rose within me. I couldn't live like that! Waiting for the day that my children were weaned, only to discover I was no longer needed. A thousand thoughts whirled in my head. What would happen to me? Would they return me to the Evil One? Would I be sent home without my children? I knew that Wolf would not allow his children to be taken from him, not even by me. A life without my children! I shuddered.

Owen mewed, nuzzling me for more food. I smiled down at him. Reality snapped back into place. It didn't matter what happened to me, as long as my children were taken care of. Owen's wide blue eyes stared into my own as if he knew what I was thinking; Lona was asleep, tiny lips still sucking.

I would make it up to him, somehow.

-00000000000000000-

A nurse woke me in the middle of the night. Lona, something was wrong with Lona. My heart in my throat, I pulled on the robe they provided me with and sped down the hall, leaving the nurse behind me. The soft, useless slippers I had on fell off my feet as I ran to my daughter's side. I ignored them, running barefoot down the cold, cement corridor. At last, I reached my children's room. Janet was there, leaning over the plastic box that held my tiny daughter. I froze in the doorway, the blood thundering in my ears.

My child! I could only remember the sorrowful tales I had heard, of infants dieing for no reason, of a thousand diseases, disorders, that could take a child's life.

A sob escaped me, breaking through the fist around my throat. Janet turned, her face creased in concern.

"Lona?" I asked, my voice quivering in fear.

"She's very ill," Janet said quietly, her frown deepening. "We think it has something to do with her exposure…"

My fault. I could hear her unvoiced accusation. My child was dieing and I was my fault. I leaned heavily on the doorway, barely able to keep upright.

"Will she… make it?" I whispered, eyes only on her tiny body through the thick protective bubble.

Janet tried to sound hopeful when she said, "We're doing everything we can."

I nodded, biting my lip to keep the tears from pouring out.

"Can I stay with her?"

Janet nodded, gesturing towards the orange plastic chair. I nodded my thanks and shuffled towards the incubator, every inch seeming an eternity.

Janet left me alone with my daughter.

-00000000000000-

He appeared in the doorway minutes later. His silvered hair shot in every direction, his uniform half buttoned, and my pale blue slippers clutched desperately in his hand.

I was standing by Lona's crib, too tense to sit, watching through a never-ending waterfall of silent tears, praying my daughter would survive.

His boots clomped heavily in the silence as he entered the room, his eyes on Lona. He didn't say anything, but paused, and looked up into my eyes. He held out my slippers, mutely offering them to me. I looked down at my bare feet.

Collapsing to my knees, I knelt in front of him, tears no longer silent.

"Please, forgive me!" I cried, covering my face with my hands.

He didn't move for long moments. I could not move. Then, with a gentleness I had not received from him before, he lifted me from the floor. I gasped and clung to his shirt, eyes searching his face to see what he would do.

He walked to the chair and sat down, cradling me in his lap. I did not release the grip I had on his shirt, thinking that this was surely a hallucination that would vanish at any moment. No one could be so forgiving!

He raised his right hand, and his fingers brushed through my hair, pressing my face gently into his chest. And, as I cried onto his shirt, I felt his tears hitting my hair and being wiped away in slow, gentle strokes.


End file.
